


until tomorrow comes crashing down

by bellonaria



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angsty Zuko, Awkward Romance, BAMF Katara, F/M, Hate to Love, Love Triangle-ish, Mecha, Multi, giant fighting robots, suki is a badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellonaria/pseuds/bellonaria
Summary: In a world dominated by mega-corporations with private militaries, the Phoenix Defense Alliance fights on behalf of the oppressed underclass. Up against the formidable Ozai Industries, the Alliance has engineered a new technology: a mecha that requires two pilots to operate in perfect harmony. Fiercely independent Katara doesn't seem like the obvious choice for the program until a series of tests result in the discovery that one of the Defense Alliance's newest acquisitions just might be her perfect match. The only problem? He's an arrogant pretty-boy, a huge jerk...oh, and he's Ozai's renegade son. Will either of them be willing to let the other inside their head in order to save the world? And what happens when they realize they might be a perfect match in more ways than one?
Relationships: Jet/Katara (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a hankering for a mecha AU, and who better to overcome their differences and learn to pilot a giant fighting robot together than our favorite love/hate couple? I hope that you guys enjoy this, and that the universe I'm crafting for this piece isn't too confusing. I'm picturing a future-esque universe where ~evil corporations~ (cough, Amazon, cough) are vying for world domination while a plucky organization of rebels learn how to pilot their own robots underground. 
> 
> Enjoy, and feel free to kudos/review/tell me you love it or hate it as you desire. Hope y'all are staying healthy and safe out there.

_The sky is blue all the way to the horizon, a deep endless cerulean reflected back by the white-capped water. Seagulls wheel and screech above the three figures on the rocky beach. Katara darts forward, her mukluks kicking up a spray of sandy pebbles, shrieking as she dares the lapping waves to wet her feet. Behind her, Sokka stands with his arms folded, staring out to sea. Out beyond the breakers, dark shapes materialize on the horizon. The fishing fleet is returning home. Their nets will be heavy with cod, enough to feed the village through winter and bring in money to fix the roof of the schoolhouse. Katara's heart is soaring as high as the wheeling gulls, elated by the prospect of seeing her father, of a full-belly winter. And then the shadow comes crawling across the water, the horizon vanishing beneath the enormous wave, cresting so high it blots out the sun. A raw scream is torn from Katara's throat as the tsunami swallows the fleet, tossing the boats about like toys in a bathtub before they're sucked into the sea's dark green underbelly. And it is coming for them now, for the rocky beach and the village of brightly-painted houses, and the white-capped mountains beyond that. Katara closes her eyes and waits for the water to swallow her whole._

"Fuck." 

An alarm clock is ringing brightly into the half-light of the dormitory room, an incessant noise that never fails to drag Katara from the depths of her nightmares. Grumbling, she rolls off her bunk and slams a fist onto the top of the chirping clock. It's nearly six, just enough time for her to pull on her training gear and gather her hair into a haphazard braid. She notes that her roommate is still sleeping, a softly snoring lump beneath the standard-issue green blanket. Still shaking off sleep, Katara closes the door on their cramped dorm room and heads down the too-bright hallway towards the cafeteria.

The subterranean passageways in the Ark are lit by glaring fluorescents 24/7, 365 days a year. Except for periodic emergency drills, Katara has never navigated the maze-like complex without the harsh white glow. She thinks that she could find her way to the cafeteria blindfolded at this point.

The cafeteria is buzzing with voices when Katara enters and fills her thermos with coffee before making her way to one of the long metal tables that crowd the low-ceilinged space. Her brother, as expected, is half-asleep over a bowl of brightly-colored cereal. Katara slides onto the bench beside him.

"Morning, sleepyhead." 

Sokka groans and lifts his spoon to his mouth. He's never been a morning person, and has always been less than enthusiastic about the early mornings required of the Alliance's field agents. 

"Another late night in the boy's dormitory?" Katara teases, lifting her thermos and upending a sugar packet into her coffee. Sokka rolls his eyes in response, slurping loudly from his bowl because he _knows_ how much Katara detests the habit. 

"Gross," Katara mutters, sipping at the bitter brew. She can recall, if only slightly, a time when she and Sokka had watched their parents grind real coffee beans in their cramped kitchen. Memories that seem to slip farther and farther away with each passing year. 

"Training today?" Sokka asks, draining the dregs of his cereal. Katara nods slowly, resisting the urge to reach out and wipe the milk running down his chin, the way she would have when they were children. Younger by a year, she's always felt protective of him. She knows he feels the same about her. 

"Just down in the B Circuit training gym," she says. "Sparring, I think." 

She stands, draining the last of her coffee from her thermos. "I should go. Commander Pakku will be pissed if I'm late." 

The B Circuit training gym, two levels beneath the cafeteria, is quiet when Katara slips through the heavy steel door. A pair of older field agents are lifting weights together in a corner, but the space is otherwise empty. Katara throws a mat down on the padded floor and begins stretching out, rolling the tension from her back and shoulders. The caffeine has lifted the fog of nightmare-plagued sleep, and she's alert enough to jackknife to her feet when she sense a presence behind her, the ghost of a hand across her shoulders. 

Jet stands behind her, a devilish smirk on his handsome, angular features. Katara rolls her eyes. 

"Just making sure your form is perfect," he drawls around the ever-present metal toothpick in his mouth. "Wouldn't want you to strain anything." 

Katara is tempted to wipe the smirk off his face, but when she spots their commanding officer striding through the twin metal doors, she pauses and smiles sweetly at her colleague. 

"How considerate of you." 

She ignores the heat that flares in her chest as she rolls her mat away and prepares for their morning team sparring. It's been nearly a year since Pakku hand-picked her, Jet, and Haru from the pool of other Shadow Operations Unit cadets to form Squadron 7. Selection for the SOU alone was a daunting yet edifying occurrence, made all the more rare by the fact that she was one of the few female candidates chosen for the mecha program. Katara knows, even now, that she is forced to work twice as hard as her male counterparts to be seen as capable. She knows that Pakku is priming both Jet and Haru for selection as the unit's preeminent mecha pilots, and has long harbored secret concerns that her commanding officer is waiting for her to slip up and be shuttled back to field intelligence...or worse, some minor role in operations and logistics. 

She can feel Commander Pakku watching her closely as she bows to Jet and Haru. They return the gesture, their fists pressed against open palms. Already, her body is thrumming with anticipation. The moment they rise, it is as if someone has sounded a starting gun. All three agents launch into motion, Haru flinging himself at Katara with a spinning roundhouse. She blocks him neatly with her right forearm, freeing her left leg to land a blow on Jet's advancing fist. She's able to sweep Haru within the first handful of moves, leaving only herself and Jet on the floor. 

He's a head taller than her, with significant more weight, but Katara uses her lean muscle to her advantage, spinning effortlessly away as he rushes her. Well-trained in defensive maneuvers, Katara dodges his blows until she can sense him weakening. 

"You don't know when to quit, do you?" Jet pants, swinging for her shoulder. Katara ducks his fist and laughs, the sound harsh as she breathes heavily. 

"You're tiring yourself out," she counters; she knows she must conserve her energy now, she can feel her sweat-slick feet beginning to slide on the gym floor. Seconds later, Jet launches another punch at Katara. She grabs his fist and forearm and, muscles clenching, sweeps his leg and flips him to the floor. He brings her down with him, and for a split-second they are centimeters apart. Katara can feel Jet's gaze locked onto hers, can feel the sweaty heat of his body close to her own. Not for the first time, something warm and dark rushes into her chest. They've known each other for years, and he's always teased her like an older boy on the playground, but over the past few months Katara has sensed another dimension to his sarcastic smirking and playful nudges. The exhilaration and intimacy of their sparring matches is a useful team-building tool, and Katara would be lying if she said she has not grown to enjoy it. 

Katara is gripped suddenly by the uncomfortable feeling that she's being watched. Not by the cluster of new cadets in their too-clean training uniforms, not by Haru, who is stretching out his right hand, nor by Pakku, who is standing with his arms folded. No, there is something else. The energy is unmistakable. 

The moment dissipates as Jet rolls over and hauls Katara to her feet, brushing dust off of her shoulder and clapping her on the back. She glances towards the dim corner of the gym just in time to see a figure slip out of the far exit and vanish. 

_Odd._

"Good match," Jet says, and Katara smiles at him. For all their verbal barbs, she cares deeply for the two young men on Squadron 7. Haru gives them both playful, yet not entirely gentle, punches on the bicep. Katara knows that it's payback for sweeping him out of their three-way match earlier. 

"Well done," says Pakku, and the three cadets stand at attention before him. "It's good for these new recruits to see what it takes to become an SOU agent." 

The handful of new recruits, cadets who have been members of the Alliance for a few weeks at most, are watching Squadron 7 with mixed expressions of reverence and hesitation. Katara acknowledges that their sparring matches can be brutal, especially to younger cadets who have most likely spent their lives force-fed the idea that only the meek can survive under oppression. 

"Excuse me, Commander, but did we have another observer today?" Katara asks, unable to shake the feeling of being watched by some mysterious figure. Pakku, to her surprise, ceases his pacing for a moment and stares at her. There is something unreadable in his gaze. Glancing away, he resumes walking back and forth before his attentive pupils. 

"No, no one aside from these new cadets. Now, if you will each take a pair of new students and run offense and defense drills with them. With any luck, we'll have them sparring before the noon break." 

By the time the bell in the training gym signals the end of the day shift, Katara is exhausted. The new cadets have proven willing to learn, but their fighting skills have a long way to go before they're capable of field deployment. Katara had found herself working with a ruddy-cheeked young man with a thick continental accent, Rudi, and a girl who couldn't have been older than twelve. _Sira_ , Katara thinks as she enters the industrial lift to the cafeteria. Sira, with long straight-trimmed bangs that hung over her eyes, who barely spoke above a whisper and nearly collapsed after only a few hours of running offense drills. Standing in the cramped elevator as it groaned upwards through the innards of the Ark, Katara finds herself hoping that she's able to work with the younger girl again. 

The cafeteria is buzzing with activity at the dinner hour, and the meal line is thirty deep by the time Katara slips through the entrance. Too tired and hungry to wait, she weaves her way through the maze of long metal tables that fill the space until she spots the familiar faces of her brother and roommate. 

Sokka and Toph are, as usual, engaged in a friendly debate, as evidenced by Sokka punctuating his sentences with stabs of his fork and Toph rolling her pale eyes at every other word out of his mouth. Their argument peters out when Katara drops onto the bench beside Toph and snags a roll of bread from her meal tray. 

"Don't think I didn't see that," Toph warns, gesturing to the electronic headband she wears. "I might be blind, but I'm not _stupid._ " 

Katara takes a single bite of the roll before Toph snatches it back. "Toph, I don't think anyone's ever accused you of that." 

"So," Toph says, leaning back on the bench. "It sounds like you guys are getting a new recruit tomorrow." She gestures to Sokka and Katara with what's left of the roll. 

"What, a new SOU agent?" Katara is suddenly interested. Unbidden, she flashes back to the all-too-familiar sensation of being watched at long range. Maybe that strange energy she'd felt in the Circuit B gym was the new kid on the block. 

"Mmmhmm." Toph takes a long sip of water. "Sounds like he's good, too. All the higher-ups in logistics were talking about it all morning. Of course, it's _need to know_ only, so technically I shouldn't even be telling you guys." 

"We're lucky to have such a generous friend in mission ops," Sokka says with a charming smile. 

Katara stares at her warped reflection in the metal table. Another SOU agent. New recruits are few and far between these days, dangerous as their away missions have become. After losing three SOU operatives the month prior, the Alliance's higher-ups had temporarily halted field operations in order to develop new mecha technology in the hopes of sparing more Alliance lives in the future. There is only one team active in the field now, on a mission off the coast of China. It's dangerous, and as far as Katara knew, no one has heard from them. Stay alive in the SOU long enough, and radio silence becomes a familiar companion. 

Back in their cramped dormitory room, Katara lies on top of her blankets in the dark, staring up at the low ceiling. In the bunk beside her, Toph is listening to an old radio program on her communicator, her eyes closed. Not for the first time, Katara is seized by a strange and sudden loneliness. She can recall feeling the same way as a very small child, the pervasive notion that she was very alone in a vast and unknowable world. Back then, of course, she'd had her parents and Gran-gran and Sokka all together in their little red house by the sea. It feels like another lifetime. 

Closing her eyes, Katara counts her inhales and exhales, willing herself to fall asleep to a rhythm as familiar as waves on the ocean. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara finally meets the mysterious new Shadow Operations agent in the sparring ring, but it's far from your typical fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this fresh, hot chapter warms your hearts on this chilly winter night. I know it's been a slow build and a lot of background, but I promise this chapter kind of kicks off the plot. Enjoy!

"Green." 

"Land." 

"House." 

"Yellow." 

Katara squints into the too-bright lights of the disused interrogation room. Across the table from her is a Level 6 psychologist, one of the Shadow Ops eggheads who runs the psychological stress tests designed to weed out the agents too damaged or frail to endure the trauma of another mission. She knows that her presence in this room means that in a handful of days she'll be deployed to some combat-ravaged corner of the continent, or maybe stuck on a sea-bound vessel, and she wonders if they'll send the entire squad with her this time. It's been weeks since they've been on any A-rank missions, and Pakku had assured them upon their return that he'd put them back on the roster after a few days of rest. 

The Ark might be secluded (not to mention buried miles underground) but the world above them is still at war. A handful of plucky organizations defending the downtrodden masses from corporate overlords and privatized militaries. In a world where governments have kotowed to corporate interests and their mechanized soldiers, Katara knows that the Phoenix Defense Alliance and its handful of allies are the last hope for justice. For peace. 

Even so, she hates word association tests. What the hell are they supposed to prove, anyway? She knows that Sokka has done them too, every member of the Shadow Ops has, but she's never probed him as to what his outcomes have been. 

The grey-haired senior psychologist across from her shuffles his papers. The lights are blinding and Katara is beginning to sweat. 

"Just one more," he says. Katara resists the urge to lower her gaze, even as a rivulet of sweat crawls down her temple. "Water." 

"Life." 

She foregoes the noon meal in favor of the Circuit D training gym, throwing punch after punch into a worn-out bag in the corner, relishing the familiar reek of old sweat. A handful of cadets linger near the mirrored wall, practicing katas together, occasionally breaking formation to giggle and tease each other. Katara watches them and tries to ignore the hollow ache building in her chest. 

They look so, so young. How many of them will wash out before they make rank? How many will die in combat before they come of age? How many of them will end up like her, a teenager with a kill list bruising their knuckles on a fraying punching bag? 

Her fingers ache by the time she unwraps her hands and wrists and jogs up the stairs to the Circuit B gym. Jet and Haru saunter in while she's stretching out, trying not to think about her battery of tests this morning. Curiosity, as always, wins out.

"So," Katara tries to keep her tone light. "Did you guys get summoned to Level 6 this morning?" 

Jet glances sideways at her and cracks his knuckles. "No. Why, did you?" 

_Great._ Her heart sinks. Another solo field mission, then. 

"Fucken Pakku," she mutters, against her better judgment. Their commander has a habit of lurking around where he's least suspected. 

"Hah," Haru teases, prodding Katara's ribs with two fingers. "Maybe they're afraid you're finally gonna snap one of these days." 

She sneers at him in return, tamping down the sour anger that flares in her stomach. _God, what if he's right? What if they think I'm going to crack in the field?_

How to balance her secret reservations with the fact that she's undoubtedly one of the most skilled operatives of her generation? _Imposter syndrome,_ she's heard it called, and she'd wondered if it's not just that her more streamlined fighting style clashes with Jet and Haru's brutal offensive maneuvers. 

She's lost in her own head for the rest of their warm-up, thinking about those stress tests and wondering how the higher-ups will interpret her words this time. They've been the same since she was a child, really, and they never had any hesitation sending her off to fight then. 

When Pakku arrives it's a break in her reverie. He's not alone. Katara feels the energy surge through her like a bolt of lightning when she sees the young man standing behind her commander. 

Half hidden in the shadows, there is something unshakably familiar about him. He stands with his hands behind his back, half his face obscured by a black mask. Katara can only see his right eye, but the way his gaze glitters like sun-streaked water sends her heart suddenly pounding.

"Squad 7, today you will have a new sparring partner. Katara, Haru, please step aside." 

_Strange,_ Katara thinks. Pakku rarely has them spar with those outside their own squad, unless they're preparing for the bi-annual alliance-wide sparring competitions. And those won't take place for another handful of months--Katara knows this because she and Jet had walked away from the spring competition with several medals each. 

_Of course._ Typical misogynistic Pakku, insisting that Jet take the first crack at the newcomer. Katara shuffles to the side of the mat and watches as Jet leisurely stretches his shoulders out. His cinnamon-colored eyes flit over the new figher, and it's not lost on Katara that they're roughly the same height and weight. They face each other and bow without introduction. And then, in a flash, they're upon each other, Jet hucking blows towards his opponent, and the darker-haired boy dodges them with lightning precision. His movements are fluid, well-practiced. The clock hasn't run down a full minute before he has Jet on the floor, panting against the mat, lips twisted in a snarl. 

Haru whistles quietly in appreciation. Katara stares at them, her gut twisting. Seeing Jet subdued so easily is sort of sickening.

Pakku's face is expressionless as Jet clambers to his feet, brushing his training pants off. He's grumbling something that Katara can't quite make out. He looks _pissed,_ stalking back to his place beside his teammates and raking a hand through his sweat-tangled hair. 

"Katara, step forward." Pakku's voice is cool, devoid of emotion. Her heart is thudding, every inch of her body crackling with sudden electricity. 

She steps to the center of the mat, grounding her bare feet on the sweat-slicked surface. She tilts her chin up, examining her opponent. He stands at the ready, poised with the easy grace of a practiced fighter. Like Jet, he's a full head taller than her, with broad shoulders and the subdued confidence of someone who is accustomed to winning fights. She thinks of the ease with which he flung Jet to the ground. Katara does not drop her gaze. 

_Those eyes._ Katara stares at his visible eye and wonders what's up with the whole mask thing. If his intention is to psych out his opponents, it's kind of working, though Katara would never admit it. 

As if a silent bell has rung, they launch towards each other. Katara blocks his first strike easily, then counters with her own. He moves with a fluid grace that matches her own. Yet there's an edge to it, and when she launches at him with a strike that nearly connects with his face, she can feel the shift in energy. And suddenly they are bearing down on each other, every move somehow mirrored, and Katara feels something like electricity crackling between them, and her knuckles and shins are already bruised black and blue. It's the final move, him swinging aggressively towards her and Katara blocking it easily; the way they catch each other halfway to the ground, inches apart, breathing hard. 

Her sea-blue eyes are locked onto his golden stare, and Katara feels something hot and revolting turn her stomach. Their tangled limbs are sweat-slicked, and she raises the corner of her mouth in as much a sneer as she can manage. When they break apart, oblivious to the crowd of cadets watching, Katara longs to spit at his feet. He is absolutely repellent. And yet, as she assumes her place beside Jet and Haru, she can still feel that heated golden stare locked onto her. That gaze is somehow familiar, and she knows without the need for confirmation that he was the one watching her from the shadows in the gym the other day. 

She is disgusted. She is fascinated. 

When he meets her eyes and then lowers his gaze, as if silently declaring her the winner, she cannot hold back the thrill of electricity that sparks through her chest. 

Pakku clears his throat and Katara can't quite interpret the way that he is looking between herself and her golden-eyed sparring partner. And then he claps his hands once, rubs his palms together.

"Well done, the both of you. You are...well-matched, Agent Katara, Agent Zuko." 

_Zuko?_ Katara resists the urge to glance to her side and meet his fire-bright eyes. Her gut twists at the idea. _So that's his name._

Even hours later, in the chaotic din of the mess hall, Katara is unable to stop thinking about her sparring match with Zuko. She can't explain the repusion and curiosity that nestle side by side in her chest. Although Zuko had been dismissed by Pakku after their tangle on the sparring mat, Squad 7 as a whole hasn't shaken how strange the encounter was. Jet in particular seems perturbed by the presence of the newcomer. 

"He's too old to be a recruit anyway," Jet complains, moving limp vegetables around on his tray. "Think about it: we never saw him in the new class of cadets. And I've been asking around, _no one_ knows who he is. It's like he just showed up one day. And they have him sparring with us? What the fuck, man?" 

Haru rolls his eyes. "You're just salty because he kicked your ass, Jet." 

"Yeah? Maybe I am. He fights dirty, I swear he was up to something. Next time we'll see who kicks whose ass." 

Katara pokes at a bland lump of potato, wishing she'd forgone the mess hall in favor of instant ramen in the dormitory. "You're right, Jet, it's odd...the way he just showed up out of the blue. And sparring us his first day?" 

Jet gestures towards Katara with his fork. "Exactly! That's what I'm saying. Maybe it's nepotism...maybe he's like, Pakku's grandson or something." 

Haru snorts. "Yeah, like anyone would get within ten feet of that guy, let alone marry and have kids with him." 

And so Zuko remains a mystery, his half-hidden face tumbling over and over in Katara's exhausted brain as she exits the mess hall and makes her way to the dorms. Toph is pulling a late-night shift in the logistics center, so Katara hits the showers and then retreats to the isolation of their empty room. She tries to read the book that Sokka brought her from his last mission down south, a volume of poems by a Creek nation poet, but finds that she cannot concentrate on the words before her. 

_That feeling_. Like pure, sweet electricity between them, the way they'd caught each other halfway through the fall. The way they'd mirrored each other instinctively, each movement as fluid as the next. Katara realizes that she's clenching and unclenching her fists. She needs to fight him again, she realizes, to _feel that_ again. That raw, unbridled energy, the suggestion of savage strength beneath their hands. And next time, she promises herself, she won't hold back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Reviews make me smile--good or bad! :^)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara is assigned a new partner for what should be an in-and-out mission. She's determined to keep her composure despite the fact that her new partner is making her feel all kinds of crazy...unfortunately, both of them are up against more than they've bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, things pick up (and heat up ahehe) in this chapter.

Katara doesn't see much of Zuko over the next handful of days, but she suspects that he sees more of her than she's completely aware of. After his humiliating defeat in the sparring ring, Jet had demanded that Pakku clue them in as to the identity of the new Shadow Ops member. Pakku, however, was reticent and simply stated that he was a new recruit, a talented fighter who'd caught the eyes of another commanding officer. The fact that he'd seemingly skipped through the ranks of cadets to join the elite class of operatives is not lost on Squad 7. 

When a new mission assignment comes in on Katara's communicator, she jumps at the chance to get out of the Ark. It's early autumn now, and she longs for the sensation of sunlight on her skin. And a quick in-and-out intel-gathering mission is just what she needs to work out the restless energy that's been building in her for days now. She can't ignore the fact that the onset of this feeling is directly correlated to her sparring match with Agent Zuko. 

Feeling almost giddy at the prospect of leaving the Ark for the next day and a half, Katara whistles off-key as she makes her way up to the mission bay. Toph is waiting in the anteroom that serves as a briefing center, tipped dangerously back on a folding chair's two rear legs. Katara snorts at her roommate.

"You could fall, you know." 

Toph smirks and crosses her legs atop the table, gesturing to a thin manila folder in front of Katara. "Your mission details." 

Katara scoops up the briefing and glances at the first page. A simple intel-gathering mission at a suspected Teak Corporation stronghold outside of Seattle. Chatter picked up the Alliance indicates that Teak Corp is using the site to develop new AI surveillance drones, something that could be potentially _very_ dangerous for the Alliance and its allies. The directive was in-and-out, no engagement unless absolutely necessary. 

"Huh," Katara says, skimming the mission details. "That's weird, I don't see Jet or Haru's names on here anywhere." 

"Uh, yeah," Toph clears her throat uncomfortably. "About that...neither of them are going out with you this time. You have a new mission partner today, Katara." 

Her heart is sinking even before she hears the door to the briefing room quietly click closed. There's the rustle of clothing, the almost imperceptible shift of a human body behind hers. 

_No. Fucking. Way_

Zuko stands behind her, hands in his pockets. His expression is unreadable behind that stupid mask. 

"Agent Zuko, reporting for duty." 

Katara lets a sharp breath out through her nose as she glances at Toph. The other girl's face is carefully blank and she fiddles a little with her headband. 

"Sorry to stick you with the new guy, Katara. It should be an easy one for you guys, in-and-out." 

_Yeah, right._ Katara's heart is racing. She's gotten nothing but the weirdest of vibes from Zuko from the moment they laid eyes on each other, and now SOU expects them to leap into doing missions together? She's beyond frustrated. 

"Fine," she mutters, thrusting the briefing paperwork at Zuko and stalking towards the door. "Let's do this, then." 

Early autumn sunlight blinds Katara as she thrusts open the ground-level door on the side of the mission hangar. A twin-engine transport plane is idling on the tarmac, propellers whirling. Katara clambers into the cargo hold as the wind whips at her hair. Once inside, she drops into the cargo netting that serves as makeshift seating and sighs. A handful of young fighters dressed in forest combat fatigues are clustered near the front of the aircraft. Zuko ducks into the hold behind Katara and chooses the seat beside her. 

The engines roar and whine as the plane hurtles down the tarmac and lifts off. Katara stares out the tiny window near the rear of the cargo hold as the wild coastal rainforest falls away. A half-mile from the Ark, the rocky beach becomes a dark line, the sea a length of blue, rippled silk. Islands dot the cobalt water, tiny green dots in the vast expanse. Her heart clenches at the sight. No matter how much time she spends away from it, the sea always feels like it's calling her home. 

Katara leans her head against the cool metal of the plane's interior and closes her eyes. She feigns sleep until the plane noses down through a thick layer of clouds and the wheels touch earth. The pilot waves her and Zuko off onto a rustic runway carved into an alpine meadow. Dark forest edges the field, the snow-capped ridges of a distant mountain range crowning above the treetops. 

The plane takes off and thunders into the cloud cover, leaving Zuko and Katara alone on the airfield. 

"C'mon," she says, shouldering her rucksack and jogging towards the treeline. "We shouldn't leave ourselves exposed." 

Sheltered by the boughs of ancient pines, Katara and Zuko hunch to assess the map that Toph has provided. Katara traces her finger over the contour lines, mapping the distance to the Teak Corp testing site. 

"We're maybe five, six miles out," she says. "Rugged terrain too, by the looks of it." 

She is acutely aware of Zuko's proximity to her, the way his soft hair falls over his face as he studies the map. He hums in agreement and they stand. Katara consults her compass and points towards a ridgeline in the distance. In silent consent, they move together through the forest. 

By mid-day, the fog has begun to dissipate, leaving a cerulean sky dotted with thick white clouds. The air is crisp and cool, and it makes for a pleasant journey towards their destination. They paused to fill their canteens at a clear-flowing mountain stream. Zuko fiddles with a vibrant purple flower that's bloomed in the open area. 

"Mountain monkshood," Katara says, gesturing towards it. "It's common around here." 

"It's nice," Zuko says quietly. He rubs one of the petals between his fingers. "I don't think I've seen it before." 

_So he's not from the region._ "You're not from around here?" She guesses.

Zuko nods. "From the city," he says, although he doesn't specify _which_ city. "Not too many flowers there." 

Katara feels enlivened by the weather and their conversation. Maybe Zuko isn't such a creep after all. Maybe they can make it through this mission without throwing hands. 

"You should see the high alpine in the springtime. It's like a garden." 

Zuko squints towards the distant mountains, and for a moment Katara wonders if he's imagining the bloom of wildflowers that spreads over the alpine meadows once a year. Then, within the span of a single breath, he's on top of her, shoving her behind a hulking granite boulder and pressing her into the soft dirt. 

"Agh," Katara chokes out, her mouth mashed against his flak jacket. "Get the hell off of me!" 

Then she hears it--the high, mechanical whine of a drone. It's not too far overheard, maybe two hundred feet. It must be a smaller model, one of the Teak Corp standards. The ones they use for delivery and surveillance in denser urban areas. 

Katara stills her body, moving as little as possible. Zuko is centimeters away from her, his right arm pressed to the granite behind her, and she realizes that his left hand is behind her head. He'd broken her fall, prevented her from smacking her skull into the boulder. The gesture warms Katara's heart momentarily before she realizes what an absolutely awkward position they're in. He smells like soft earth and woodsmoke, and Katara tries not to inhale too deeply. 

The drone circles twice overhead and then zips off due south-east. Zuko stands, hauling Katara alongside him. She brushes her cargo pants off, suddenly embarrassed at the ease with which he'd handled her. _Like a damsel in distress,_ she thinks bitterly. 

"Teak Corp," says Zuko, as if he is reading her mind. "That testing site must be nearby." 

Katara stares into the cerulean sky, wondering if more drones are hiding behind the mass of thunderheads on the horizon. Either way, rain is coming. 

"We should get going," she tells him, and they set off at a moderate jog into the treeline. It's not easy travel: the forest here is wild old-growth, the last reaches of the Northwest not logged into submission by corporate interests. Fallen timber blocks their path at every turn, and deep ravines and gullies cut through the landscape. They move in silence, and Katara's heartrate climbs the closer they draw to their destination. She scales a boulder the size of an SUV and pauses. A few hundred yards downhill, the forest has been cleared away to make room for a hulking concrete structure. There's what looks like a landing pad for drones and helicopters. Uniformed guards with semi-automatic weapons are posted at intervals around a high fence topped with barbed wire. 

"Well," Katara turns to Zuko below her and gives him a half-smile. "Looks like we're here." 

Hours later, the sun is shifting towards the horizon and Katara's legs have gone numb from lying in position atop a flat boulder on a ridgeline above the Teak Corp site. Zuko is fiddling with his sniper rifle, despite the fact that Katara has impressed upon him that the commanding officers have specified _no engagement unless necessary._

"Five guards still," Katara relays. "But they'll probably be due for a shift change come sundown."

Zuko nods. "Roger. Have they brought any tech out?" 

Katara shakes her head, rolls onto her side and then rises to sit back on her heels. "No, just two survellience drones in the air. I think we're well-hidden enough here. They'd have been on us hours ago if that weren't the case." 

Golden late-afternoon sunlight gives way to cloud cover. Katara smells rain on the breeze and removes a tarp from her rucksack. 

"We'll rotate watch throughout the night," she tells Zuko, handing him the binoculars. "It's easiest that way." 

They pass another hour in silence before Katara's curiosity overwhelms her. Alone with Zuko in the middle of the woods...it's the perfect opportunity to try and figure out how the _hell_ he surpassed the usual cadet ranks and earned a spot amongst the Alliance's most elite agents. 

"So, you're fairly new around the Ark. How are you settling in?" 

Zuko glances over, then returns to gazing through the high-powered binoculars. 

"Fine." 

"The food in the mess hall is pretty awful, and it's easy to get lost the further down you go, but all in all it's not a bad place. Pretty remote, but that's safest, I suppose." 

"Mmhmm." 

_Okay, so he's quiet. That's fine. I can work with that._

"Pakku seemed pretty impressed with our sparring match the other day. Hah--"well-matched", I think he said." 

Zuko lowers the binoculars and fixes her with his piercing gaze. Katara feels her face flushing. Why is she suddenly wondering what's underneath that mask he always seems to wear? 

"You fight well," Zuko replies, his voice low. "I was surprised." 

_Of_ course, Katara thinks bitterly. She should have pegged him for a misogynist.

"Because I'm a girl," she says. 

Zuko quirks his visible eyebrow. "No," he answers. "Because I've never felt that before when fighting. A...connection." 

And he turns back to the binoculars, leaving Katara to sit with his final words in silence.

It's well after midnight when the rain begins to fall, a gentle patter of droplets that soon gives way to a true Cascadian deluge. Never bothered by the damp, Katara slides on a rain jacket and pulls the tarp taut between two boughs. Zuko, however, seems perturbed by the rain. Katara's mouth twists into a smirk before she can stop herself. _He_ really _isn't from around here, is he?_

"Not a fan of the rain?" She asks, cupping her hands together for warmth. Zuko scowls at the downpour and rakes a hand through his damp locks. Droplets of water cling to his eyelashes, and Katara is struck by how goddamn pretty he is. She quickly shakes the thought, embarrassed. 

"Just makes it harder to see," he mutters, wiping the lenses of the binoculars. Katara nods and they sit in silence, Zuko's shoulders hunched as he watches the Teak Corp guards pace miserably along the site perimeter. 

Without warning, he grabs Katara by the jacket and pulls her down next to him. "Look," he hisses. 

An enormous door on the side of the hulking concrete structure is raising inch by inch. And then it emerges from the building's interior: a mecha, clearly brand-new, clearly advanced in its making. It's obviously a newer version of the standard Teak Corp Alexis Project mechas developed over the past decade or so, Katara can recognize that much from the robot's build. This one is sleeker though, and there's what looks like a new type of missile attached to the left arm. Katara grabs the waterproof camera from her rucksack and snaps a few pictures, trying to tamp down the alarm rising in her chest. 

The mecha stands there, bathed in the floodlights, the sleek exterior glimmering. 

"It must be a new generation of mecha," Katara whispers. "That arm...that's a new missile." 

Zuko is tense beside her. 

Suddenly, with a barely-audible mechanical whine, the blank UV protected cockpit head of the Teak Corp swivels towards where Zuko and Katara are crouched on the ridge. It rasies its left arm.

"Oh shi--" 

And then the world explodes around them, sodden earth raining down as the tree that they're sheltered under is blasted from its roots. Katara scrambles backwards, blinded by the flash and the dirt in her eyes, trying to cover her head from flying rocks and soil. She's vaguely aware of Zuko's flak jacket between her fingers, and realizes that she's hauled him back with her. And then he's moving alongside her, mouthing something that she can't hear over the high-pitched whine in her ears. 

She and Zuko stare at each other dumbly for a long second, and then she understands what he's mouthing. 

_"Run."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far, guys. Hope that y'all enjoyed the action in this chapter. Sorry for the little cliff-hanger at the end. Stay tuned for more action-packed Zuko & Katara action next time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Up against a formidable new foe, Katara and Zuko seek safety in the woods.

Katara stumbles forward as another volley of shots rings out from the Teak Corp site. She and Zuko run, their eyes on the dark forest ahead, trying to lose themselves in the trees. It feels like hours before they come to a halt, crouching halfway down a boulder-strewn ravine. 

Beside her, Zuko is panting, his rifle slung over his shoulder. Neither of them moves for a long moment. The shots have faded into an eerie quiet. The only sound is the wind through the pine branches. Katara palpates her limbs, feeling under her flak vest. 

_Okay, nothing feels broken, just bruised._

"Zuko, you're bleeding," she says suddenly, gesturing to a rivulet of blood trickling down the side of his face. He brings a hand up and stares at it. His face is blank. 

"Here," Katara fishes out the first aid kit and retrieves clotting powder and a bandage. Zuko is still as she bandages the wound. Surrounded by darkness, only the trees and stars above them, the gesture feels strikingly intimate. "Are you okay?" 

Zuko assembles his rifle and sets it up on the flat ridge of a boulder. "Fine. You?" 

The adrenaline is beginning to wear off and Katara digs out a caffeine pill. At first light, they'll head for the rudimentary airstrip in the opposite direction. But for now, sleep is too dangerous. Neither can afford to be caught off guard. 

They don't build a fire but instead sit in the darkness, listening for the sound of the new mecha moving through the darkness. 

"We'll move out at first light," Katara says quietly, her hand on her pistol. 

"Mmh," Zuko agrees. 

She is acutely aware of the space between them, how close they are sitting together. Her heart is thudding in her chest. The last time she can recall feeling this way is on a mission two years ago when she and Jet had first kissed each other. Cheating death by a mere stroke of luck, sitting close together in the starry darkness after dodging a hail of bullets. They'd just only made Shadow Ops at that point, still fresh in the field, unsure of themselves and their place in this dangerous new world. 

"Do you have any family?" She's not quite sure why she blurts it out in a low whisper. Maybe because Sokka is always in the back of her mind after missions go south, wondering if someday one of them won't come home from the field. 

Zuko glances at her, his visible eye shining glinting in the dark. He raises a hand absently to the part of his face that's covered by the mask. 

"None alive. None that would miss me, anyway." 

Katara nods. It's not an uncommon story for a Shadow Ops agent, especially the younger amongst them. Those who didn't have family left to take them in, who didn't have parents left at home to fret about their children piloting mecha soldiers or dodging gunfire. 

"My brother and I, we lost our parents when we were just kids. Some Alliance troops running drills out on the cost found us a few days later." She pauses, then rushes ahead, unsure of why she's revealing this personal information to someone she barely knows. "I looked up the incident file when I got a high enough clearance level. They said it was Ozai Industries testing new weapons-they targeted our village because there was a small resistant movement there."

Her heart is racing as she falls silent. Zuko fiddles with his rifle but doesn't reply for a long moment. 

"I'm sorry," he says, and then he turns away from her. They sit in silence until the sun begins to glow on the horizon, turning the sky pale blue. 

Zuko and Katara move cautiously through the forest. Heavy mist hangs in the trees and drips down their flak vests as they approach the airstrip. Katara can't shake the weird feeling that's followed her since last night. She's willing to chalk it up to the adrenaline of narrowly escaping being shot or blown up, or maybe Zuko's just not one for discussing family tragedies. 

They stand in the fringe of the forest that borders the airfield until a twin-engine transport plane roars down out of the mist. Zuko and Katara clamber inside and the pilot takes off. The interior of the rickety bush plane is frigid, thick clouds rushing past the window. Katara leans her head back and closes her eyes. Beside her, Zuko is staring straight ahead. He seems determined to interact with her as little as possible. 

They don't speak until the plane descends through the cloud cover and onto the paved airstrip outside the Ark. Katara bounds off the plane, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be back in her cluttered dorm room, listening to Toph crack sarcastic jokes about working in logistics. Standing beside the runway, she watches the sun begin to break through the marine layer. Out beyond the airstrip, a handful of fishing boats bob on the glittering harbor. 

She feels the familiar sensation of eyes on her; when she turns around Zuko is staring at her. His hair is ruffled by the breeze, his one visible eye bright and fixed on her. His half-hidden face is unreadable as always. Then he turns, slowly, and heads back towards the low concrete structure in the distance. Katara stands there, inhaling the tangy salt air deeply, her mind racing. She recalls what Zuko had said to her in the woods, that he'd never felt a connection like theirs before. She's confused and exhausted. She knows she'll need to go inside soon, file the mission report, explain how they almost got blown to pieces in the woods. She also knows that what Zuko had said is true. She's not sure what exactly it was that they felt, but she knows without a doubt that they'll need to explore it more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry one is a little shorter. I have plans for the next one to be longer. Leave a kudos/review if you feel inclined to do so! I appreciate all of you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their first mission together goes awry, Katara can't help but wonder why Zuko is suddenly ignoring her. That is, until a savvy former mecha pilot approaches Katara with a unique offer that might change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I can't tell you how many times I almost typed Zuko's name as 'Sasuke' in this chapter because I've been binge-watching Naruto and of course Sasuke is the archetypal arrogant emo boy, lmao.  
> Content warning for this chapter includes violence, mentions of genocide, death, politics. I apologize if any of this comes across as preachy or overly political, but all issues addressed are ones that are important to me and to the next generation of people who live in and love places like the Pacific Northwest, British Columbia, and Alaska.

_The morning has dawned clear and cold, the wind off the bay frigid against Katara's winter-chapped cheeks. She and Sokka shiver in their parkas as they load crab traps onto the deck of Dad's boat. Dad is mending a line, chopping it up with Pete Anawak from down the road. Siaja and Katara catch each other's gaze and roll their eyes. A sturdy girl, a year older than Katara with two long braids down her back, Siaja lifts the crab pots with ease. Her cheeks, too, are ruddy with cold._

_"Maybe you'll get lucky out there today," Pete says, gesturing to the pots. Dad nods, his callused hands working the line. His brow is furrowed. Katara's stomach sinks--she knows the crab pots are coming up empty more and more often these days. In years prior, they'd never had to take the traps out this late in the season._

_"You know, Luke says those Ozai Industry ships out past the far islands has something to do with it." Dad keeps staring at the line as he speaks, his voice slow and careful. "Sonic weapon testing, underwater shit, you know. Says it's messing with the fish populations, making it harder and harder for us to bring in a good catch."_

_Pete raises his chin. "Just a matter of time 'till they're back here, yeah. Just like they're back in the interior, mining. Taking over land acre by acre. Just a matter of time 'till they take our land, too."_

_Katara's hands still on the crab pot she's lifting._ Take our land. _She's heard Mom and Dad talking quietly together, or with their neighbors, about the Ozai Industries copper mine. The way that the corporation pumps billions of gallons of waste into the water, how they've choked the streams with slag. The way that last year, the salmon run was smaller than the year before. The way that Mom had looked at the little fish wriggling upstream and shaken her head, long dark hair falling into her face, and told them that by the time they were grown there might not be a single salmon left in the river._

_Dad looks at Pete, and then looks over at Katara. Their eyes meet, the same blue as the sea during the springtime thaw, and Katara can see a deep and profound grief in her father's gaze. But beneath is anger: anger at the corporations that have killed their land and their people, have left their crab pots empty this season, are content to take and take until there is nothing left. Who will leave a burnt and broken world for his children._

_"There are more of us than there are of them," Dad says. "It's time we fought back."_

"Katara." Toph's voice sounds as if it's coming from a thousand miles away. "Yo, Katara!" 

Katara jerks, nearly slipping out of her chair as she's pulled from her reverie. Toph is staring across the mission report desk, one eyebrow quirked. 

"You okay?" 

Katara forces a half-smile onto her face and hands over the manila folder containing the report from their nearly-failed mission to the Teak Corp site. 

"Yeah, sorry. Just tired, you know? This one was a doozy." She leans in closer to avoid the gaggle of field agents in the room from hearing. "They have some kind of new mecha. It has new weapons. It almost took us out, Toph." 

The other girl's expression morphs into one of concern. "Jesus. I didn't know. How did Zuko handle it?" 

Katara breathes out through her nose. She's _so_ not in the mood to discuss her aloof mission partner right now. 

"Fine. Look, I gotta go. But I'll see you back in the dorm, okay?" 

And with that Katara weaves her way through the herd of field agents waiting to hand in reports and jogs down the empty hallway. Toph's mention of Zuko, while innocent, has sent her stomach churning. When she reaches the smaller gym on Circuit C, the one usually used by cadets, she leans against the walls and heaves a sigh. The gym is dark, the cramped space made to feel slightly larger with a mirrored wall. She can recall staring at her reflection in those mirrors years ago, practicing her fighting forms over and over until her muscles ached. 

Katara is wrapping her hands, although she doesn't feel much like training right now, when a voice breaks the silence.

"Hey kid. Heard you made it back alive. I've been looking all over for you." 

It's Jet. Still dressed in his flak jacket, he must have recently returned from the field himself. He leans against the wall beside her and runs a hand through his windswept hair. The sight makes Katara's gut twist a little. 

"Don't call me that," Katara huffs. Jet smirks. 

"So, how was it? You were out there with Zuko, right?" 

Katara nods, suddenly intensely focused on wrapping her hands. Why does everyone have to keep bringing him up? 

Jet's voice is softer when he speaks, but he is staring hard at the ground and his words come in a rush. 

"Look, Katara, we've known each other for a long time. I...I don't trust that guy. There's something off about him. And it's not just that he beat me when we sparred. It's something else." 

Katara fiddles with her wraps. "I can take care of myself, Jet." 

Her cheeks are suddenly warm. _Is he jealous?_ She can't help but recall the hasty, adrenaline-fueled kiss they'd shared all that time ago. Was he thinking of the same thing? Was he imagining that she and Zuko had fallen into each other's arms after their brush with death? 

He scoffs. "I know, Katara." 

He turns to face her. "You're a good agent, Katara. And a good friend. I would hate to see you get hurt because they throw you into the field with some arrogant prick who doesn't know what he's doing and doesn't care about you the way--the way we do." 

Warmth swells in Katara's chest. Of course. Jet and Haru, her boys, the first team she'd gone into the field with. Jet, the first boy who had made her heart flutter, the first boy she'd kissed. Of course they care about her. Of course Jet doesn't want her out in the cold, unforgiving, wartorn world with Zuko. And maybe he's right. 

She smiles, raises her blue eyes to meet Jet's cinnamon-colored ones. "Thanks, Jet." 

And she means it. 

That night, and the next, sleep does not come easily to Katara. She keeps seeing that Teak Corp mecha in her dreams, the sleek, shiny menace of it. The ease with which it had targeted them, almost blown them away. It's not the first time she's nearly died in the field, but she still jerks awake drenched in sweat long before the tinny shrill of her alarm. 

An early summons to the logistics center comes as no surprise, but Katara drags herself there with hesitation twisting her insides. _What if it's another mission with Zuko?_ He's mostly avoided her since their return to the Ark, and the few times Katara has spotted him in the mess hall or the gym, he's turned away. When she reaches the logistics center, she expects to find either Haru and Jet or Zuko waiting with a new mission. Instead, a stranger is leaning casually against the desk, a young woman with shoulder-length brown hair and piercing grey eyes. 

"You must be Katara." She straightens and extends a hand. "My name is Suki. Walk with me?" 

Unsure but not willing to display her confusion, Katara falls into step with Suki. Suki guides them towards the lifts; once they're inside, she turns to Katara. 

"You must be wondering who I am." 

Katara nods slowly. She's not sure she's ever seen Suki at the Ark. Maybe she's one of the old timer agents who spend years a time out in the field, in deep cover positions with corporate militias. A long, thin scar down the side of Suki's face suggests that she's seen battle, but she doesn't look particularly old--maybe mid-twenties at best. 

"Well, I've been with the Alliance for a long time. Since I was a little girl. We have that in common." 

_How does she know that? She must have read my file._ Katara shifts awkwardly, wondering what else this attractive stranger knows about her. The lift doors open onto the dim hallways of level 9. Katara has rarely been this deep in the Ark before, and she follows Suki with caution. The older woman leads her to a non-descript door and swipes a key card to enter. A wink aimed at Katara suggests that high levels of clearance are required to access whatever is behind it.

They stand in a cavernous space, so gloomy that Katara can hardly make out that they're on a balustrade that rings the enormous room. Suki flips a switch and floodlights click on, illuminating the room and the form before them. 

It's a mecha, and it's not like anything that Katara has seen before. It's larger than those she's seen during training drills, and there is a pair of long katana-like blades crossed on its back. The exterior isn't as sleek as those used by the mega corporations, as if it's been cobbled together from discarded pieces of other mechas. 

Suki turns to her, smiling. "What do you think?" 

Katara stares at it, at the pair of swords, the dark cockpit windshield. All she's wanted for years was to be this close to one of the Alliance's mechas. 

"It's beautiful." 

A satisfied smile on Suki's face suggests that this is the appropriate answer. "Her name is Guardian Alpha." 

Katara tears her gaze from the mecha to Suki's face. "I just...I don't understand why I'm here." She knows, deep down, that piloting a mecha is a dream that likely will never be. There are too many older, more advanced agents in the pool for the commanding officers to pick from. Why would anyone choose a scrappy orphan from the barrier islands, a girl who'd never seen a mecha until one ripped her life apart? 

Suki's smile widens, her eyes bright. 

"How would you like to pilot her?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, reviews/kudos are much appreciated. Also, the mining mentioned during the flashback at the beginning of this chapter is a very real threat facing Bristol Bay, Alaska's salmon population (which is an integral part of the area's ecosystem). The proposed Pebble Mine would destroy 80 miles of stream and 3,500 acres of wetlands. It would require the construction of a 122-mile long natural gas pipeline and create billions of gallons of mine pollution each year. This area of Alaska is beautiful and wild, and so badly needs to be protected. I encourage you to learn more about it if you're interested in ecology, environmental science, protecting the wilderness, or just beautiful places in general. This story is set in a future where the warnings of environmental scientists have not been heeded. We can change that together. Much love and many thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under Suki's tutelage, Katara agrees begins training for the mecha pilot program. There's just one hang-up: Guardian Alpha requires two pilots to operate in total synchronicity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forewarned: this chapter contains a lot of pseudo-science type stuff because let's face it...this technology doesn't really exist in our world (yet lol). I borrowed heavily from the Pacific Rim franchise's concept of two people being 'drift compatible' for this fic.

_"How would you like to pilot her?"_

The words ring in Katara's ears as she realizes she's gripping the balustrade's guardrail, suddenly lightheaded. Suki is giving her a dazzling smile, her eyes bright and expectant. 

"I--me? Pilot Guardian Alpha?" Katara chokes the words out, beginning to wonder if this is some kind of sick joke. "But Suki, I'm...I'm not a pilot. Not even close." 

"Mh," Suki hums, "but you will be. If you want to, that is." 

_If I want to._ Katara stares hard at the mecha before her, its form hulking even in the cavernous gallery. Of course, she wants to. How could she not? Even among the elite ranks of the Shadow Ops, mecha pilots are recognized as some of the most talented and disciplined members of the Alliance. Those selected for the exclusive training program are nearly all senior field agents, practiced combatants with years of experience on the battlefield. 

"I do. More than anything, really." 

Suki nods and shuts the lights off; they click off one by one, casting the space into darkness. Out in the hall, Suki's expression becomes serious beneath the glaring fluorescents. 

"It's not easy. I'm sure you're well aware of that. You will need to train very hard, perhaps harder than anyone else in the program." 

Katara straightens, ready to defend herself, and Suki quirks a smile at her. 

"Not because you're a girl, Katara. Because you're quite young and there are many horrors in the world you've not yet seen. Now, walk with me, and I'll tell you more about Guardian." 

"We started developing this class of mecha nearly a decade ago. The original idea came from some classified information that came to light during the infiltration of a Teak Corp black site. They were doing...human experiments...on prisoners. Our agents were able to recover and transmit some of the data before the site was blown to pieces. Many, many people have given their lives in pursuit of this project. Because you see, no megacorp has been able to successfully achieve what we have. Well, what we think have." 

"What we think we have?" Katara asks. Her heart is racing as they wend their way through the maze of hallways. Technology inaccessible to megacorps like Teak and Ozai Industries? Whatever it is, it must be incredible. 

"It's complicated, to be sure. I'm not certain I understand all of it completely. This technology we're using, it's based on some pretty controversial ideas. Essentially...it requires the joining of two minds. Two pilots, working in total synchronicity." 

Suki ushers Katara down another hallway and pauses outside a thick steel door to dig for her keycard. 

"Two pilots? So that means..." 

Suki retrieves her card and nods. "Yes. You'll have a partner." 

"Who?" Katara's heart is suddenly racing in her chest.

Suki swipes the keycard with a shrill beep and pushes open the door. Katara's question is immediately answered. A figure is standing in the center of the dimly-lit room, hands in the pockets of his flak vest. He turns to look over his shoulder and she swears her heart stops beating in her chest. 

_Zuko._

"No fuckin way."

The words tumble from Katara's mouth before she can stop them. Suki turns to her in surprise; Katara herself isn't quite sure if her exclamation had been out of shock or protest. She can feel her cheeks reddening, and she cringes. After all, if Suki's read her file, she has no reason to think that she and Zuko are anything other than one-time mission partners...a casual relationship at best. 

"Sorry," Katara mutters. Zuko turns fully to face them and inclines his head. 

"As I was saying," Suki continues, "Guardian Alpha operation system requires two pilots, working in perfect harmony. This mecha is equipped with technology that doesn't exist outside of this room--the only ones who know about it are those who have intimate knowledge of the project." 

She crosses the room to a whiteboard covered with equations and hand-drawn diagrams. They might as well be written in an alien language, for all Katara knows. In the corner of the whiteboard, she notices, there are two polaroid photos of herself and Zuko. Her own she recognizes from her first day as in the Shadow Ops, but Zuko's must be more recent. 

Katara and Zuko take seats at the large table that dominates the room as Suki continues her explanation, gesturing to the whiteboard. 

"We call it a dual sequence drive. I can have one of the scientists give you a more thorough explanation sometimes, but I'll give you a dumbed-down version." She smiles apologetically. "Basically, you'll be wearing a headset and a body suit that allows you to connect to Guardian Alpha...and to each other." 

Zuko shifts uncomfortably in his chair. 

"Uh, could you specify what you mean by _connecting_?" 

Suki glances between the two young agents seated before her. Katara can see a question forming in her eyes. 

"You'll be able to access each other's base instincts, primarily those related to combat. The hope is that you'll be able to anticipate the other's next move so that you're always moving in perfect harmony." 

_Oh...my god._ Katara's heart is thudding in her chest, her mind racing a thousand miles an hour. Everything Suki is saying sounds impossible and terrifying and intriguing and she wants to know everything about this, but she's also acutely aware of Zuko sitting two feet to her left and the very real fact that he is her intended partner in this project. 

"You mean read each other's minds." Zuko's voice has a hard edge to it. 

Suki sighs and folds her arms in front of her. "Look, Zuko, Katara...I'll be honest with you. There's a lot we don't know. This program is a shot in the dark, really. But it's also the best hope we have right now to save hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of lives. And you're our best chance to make that happen." 

Suki's words send chills racing down Katara's spine. _Millions of lives._ People like her parents, like her childhood neighbors. People like Sokka, and Toph, and the hundreds of other Alliance members in the Ark. They could help create a world with no need for war, no need for children to become soldiers. 

"I'm in," Katara says, her voice coming out louder than she'd wanted. Beside her, Zuko sighs. 

"So am I." 

Suki insists that Zuko and Katara spend the rest of the day reviewing basic fighting forms. They stand in the dusty, disused gym, an awkward silence hanging between them. The fluorescent lights are ancient and dim, the mats on the floor curling at the edges. A jumble of outdated training equipment in the corner suggests that this space hasn't been used in years.

"Pretty crazy stuff, right?" Katara tries to keep her tone light. Being in here alone with Zuko is uncomfortable. She keeps thinking of Jet's words. 

"Mhm," Zuko hums noncommittally and strips off his flak vest, then begins to stretch out. Katara joins him in silence. She wonders if he'll ever take that mask off in front of her. What's he hiding, anyway? She decides that maybe he has some grotesque deformity. But no, she can see through the form-fitting material that he has good bone structure: high, sharp cheekbones, an angular chin. She realizes with horror that she's staring at Zuko and quickly looks away. 

"Let's start with going through the basic movements," Katara suggests. "You know them, right?" 

Zuko nods and then assumes a standard fighting stance. They go through the movements several times, and Katara observes the ease with which he moves. Just as in the sparring ring, every movement belies the fact that he's a practiced fighter. She wonders who trained him, wonders if he left behind old teammates...wherever he came from. 

They move through the first several forms with ease, and even in the dusty mirror on the opposite wall, Katara cannot help but notice how synchronized their movements are. They move in natural harmony. She wonders if this will translate when they're piloting Guardian Alpha. 

Several hours later, they pause and slump onto the mats to rest. Katara takes a long pull from her canteen, grimacing at the metallic taste. 

"So, how did you learn our fighting forms if you were never a cadet?" 

It's a bold question, to be sure, but she can't let her curiosity linger any longer. Zuko glances over, then rakes a hand through his sweaty hair. 

"They're all based on Shotokan karate." He fiddles with his canteen for a moment. "I learned it when I was young." 

_You're still young,_ Katara thinks. _God, we all are._

They sit together in silence for a long while. Katara's mind is churning over itself. This whole situation is so bizarre. She's confident that neither of them knows what they're getting into. It's clear that they work well together, but there's also no mistaking the tense undercurrent that cuts through every one of their interactions. 

Clearing her throat, Katara stands and brushes off her dusty pants. "It's late. I should get going." 

Zuko rises beside her, smelling like sweat and pinewood. To Katara's surprise, he turns to her and crinkles his one visible eye at her. She realizes that he's smiling.

"Maybe tomorrow we can spar." 

The words set something in her chest alight. The thought of fighting him again, matching each other movement for movement, in that perfect harmony that Suki had described. A smile curves Katara's mouth into a gentle smile before she can stop herself. 

"See you tomorrow, Zuko." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys. As always, reviews and kudos appreciated if you feel up to it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara and Zuko experiment with the dual sequence drive, but everything is not what it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, sorry for the late update! My computer chose a great time to crash, clearly. Thanks for all the positive reviews and kudos, they really keep me going. Hope you guys enjoy this one!

As late summer turns to autumn and the days grow longer, Katara falls into an easy rhythm of training with Jet and Haru in the mornings and then descending into the bowels of the Ark in the afternoons for prolonged workouts with Zuko. Although she can't quite call what they've developed a  _ friendship _ , there's a certain ease with which they interact, a fluidity in the way they move around each other. One thing, however, continues to lurk uneasily at the back of Katara's mind: the dual sequence drive, which Suki hasn't brought up since she first introduced the concept to Katara and Zuko. 

"So it's like, mind-reading?" Katara probes her mentor as they sit with their legs dangling over the balustrade, overlooking Guardian Alpha's docking bay. "Because, uh, I'm not so sure how much I want Zuko up there, you know?" 

Suki gives her a half-smile and nods. "Sure. Look, describing it as 'mind-reading'...it's just a convenient way to convey what really goes on when you and your partner are connected. Trust is incredibly important. I know it sounds scary, but it's not really that bad." 

_ Not that bad.  _ "So you've done it, then?" 

Suki doesn't respond for a long moment, her eyes fixed on a faraway point. 

"Yes. A long time ago." She pauses, not looking at Katara. "It was during the initial stages of the program. I was younger then, just a cadet." 

_ Younger then? She can't be older than twenty-two now,  _ Katara thinks. Suki is gracefully built, with the slender but well-muscled body of a gymnast or acrobat. Even the scar on her face is elegant in a battle-worn way. She must have become a field agent very young, Katara realizes. Even as a young adult, she would have seen many of her comrades fall in the line of duty already. Katara thinks of the agents in her class she's seen return missing limbs, or simply not return at all. To be sure, the lifespan of a Shadow Ops agent is often a short one. 

"But this is the first time any team is piloting Guardian Alpha, right?" 

Suki hums in agreement. She seems to be carefully avoiding making eye contact with Katara. Her grey eyes, usually bright, are suddenly downcast. 

"What happened?" Katara presses and the look on Suki's face immediately indicates that she's gone too far. She hastily offers Suki a friendly smile and squeezes the older woman's hand. 

"Nevermind," Katara counters. "Forget it." 

But something about the look on Suki's face lingers in Katara's mind long after they've left the docking bay. 

Later, back in their cramped sleeping quarters, Katara stares at the ceiling and thinks about the possibility--no, the fact--that someday very soon she and Zuko will be in a position where they'll be able to read each other's minds. She considers, not for the first time, that there are things that she maybe doesn't want Zuko to see. She wonders if he feels the same, if there are moments he's never realized anyone else would ever be privy to. Katara wonders if there's a way to hide things, block them off so no one, not even Zuko, will be able to see them. What had Suki said?  _ Trust is incredibly important.  _ Listening to Toph snore quietly in the dark, Katara mulls over if whether or not she actually trusts Zuko. Sure, they'd essentially saved each other on their disastrous mission to the Teak Corp site, and there was no doubt that they worked well together. Even he'd had to admit that he'd never felt so connected to a partner. But actual, genuine trust? The way she trusts Sokka and Toph, Haru and Jet? She's not sure. 

Katara is hardly surprised when they call her to level 9 halfway through a training session with Jet and Haru, leaving the boys to stare after her in equal parts concern and bemusement. Suki is waiting for her in the hallway outside, leaning against the wall with her arms folded. Katara tries to steady her walk, willing her fists to unclench themselves. She can't be nervous; at least, cannot appear so. 

"What is this?"

Suki's expression rearranges itself into one of calm reassurance, but there is something strained beneath it. 

"Just another test, Katara. Nothing to worry about." 

The door swings open and Katara enters a large room ringed with testing equipment, stuff she's recognized from past visits to the mecha bays. There are two chairs in the middle of the room and it's not lost on Katara that they're bolted to the floor. She realizes with a start that Zuko is already sitting in one. Katara takes a seat, every nerve in her body singing with apprehension, and allows the technicians to attach a metal clamp to her temples. She tries to slow her breathing, knowing that they'll be calculating her heartrate; that an accelerated heart rate means she's nervous. 

The technicians stand at the corner of the room, bunching together as if afraid. A voice comes over a crackling speaker. 

"Dual sequencing in three...two...one...go." 

_ A village on a rocky shoreline, colorful houses against a cerulean sky. A woman's soft voice, then a sweep of silky dark hair and a pale hand offering a red ball. A woman in a parka with two braids laughing, holding out her arms on a broad sweep of pebbled beach. A dark room and raised voices, a woman's scream, the silhouette of her being raised by the hair. A young boy and a man on the shore, mending nets together. A man screaming about his failure of a son, his face red, a room draped in red fabric with the most distinct logo, screaming about strikes against those stupid villagers on the coast, screaming about how he'll drone strike them all to hell and he'll send his son there too.  _

Katara rips free from the clamps, her brain red-hot and screaming. Her gaze is blurry and her ears are ringing, but she can make out Suki's face in the crowd and lurches towards her. Everything is blurry, bordering on blackout as if she were drunk, and she lets Suki guide her from the room out into the hallway where Katara vomits profously into the first available trash receptacle. She can't believe what she's just seen. If she believes it, she'll have to accept that what just happened. Her mouth is sour with bile. She'll have to accept that Zuko is what he has just revealed to her. Katara leans over the trash receptacle, her head spinning. 

She collapses and is caught in Suki's strong, soft arms. Everything is going dark. 


End file.
